


Three Things Crowley Can Do With His Tongue

by Desdemona_Sarah_McKenzie



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Crowley doing weird things with his tongue, Crowley's Tongue (Good Omens), Fluff, M/M, Oral Sex, Possible Body Horror, Post-Canon, Smut, Tiny bit of Angst, i wrote this at 2am in a hotel bathroom and edited it once so any mistakes are entirely my own fault
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-29
Updated: 2019-06-29
Packaged: 2020-05-30 21:03:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19411354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Desdemona_Sarah_McKenzie/pseuds/Desdemona_Sarah_McKenzie
Summary: A Nice and Accurate Account of the three ways the demon Crowley – a wily old Serpent – uses his tongue.





	Three Things Crowley Can Do With His Tongue

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first ever fic for this fandom! I've watched the series several times now, but I'm only halfway through the book, so sorry for any inaccuracies! I absolutely adore these two, and I hope you like this little drabble!
> 
> You can follow me on tumblr at @desdemonasarahmckenzie, or my Good Omens blog @ugo2fast4mecrowley. Thanks for reading!
> 
> Edit: Now with an amazing podfic by the wonderful user carboncopies!

We'll start with the obvious: Taste. Crowley has tasted many things in his over 6000 years of existence, from oysters in Rome and crepes in Paris to ambrosia in heaven and bitter sulphur in Hell. On Earth, he could taste the acrid smoke from the witch burning fires, the metallic tang of blood from fights for his life - or more accurately, his body - and he had, on one memorable occasion, tasted the walls of hell, which tasted like pain and suffering, with a hint of mouldy bread.

His favourite taste of all, however, was one that could not quite be defined. It was sweet as honey, just left of lavender, with a touch of human sweat and angelic divinity to boot, and it just so happened to belong to the angel Aziraphale. Crowley had first tasted him in Rome in 41 AD, before the oysters but after the wine, when they were both ever-so-slightly drunk and leaning against each other, and he'd leant over and licked a long stripe up the angel's neck.

Aziraphale had shuddered and pushed him away, shock in his eyes and fear in his demeanour, and Crowley had been filled with the urge to taste _more_ , no matter the slight burn of holiness on his tongue. They hadn't seen each other again for a while after that, but Crowley distinctly remembered the taste over the years, as well as the look in Aziraphale's eyes as he'd distanced them both from each other.

The next time he tasted Aziraphale was decidedly more reciprocated. And the time after that, and the time after that. After the events - or near-events - of Armageddon, and the revelations that came afterwards, he was allowed to taste all he wanted. In fact, Aziraphale had actually kissed him first, after their celebratory dinner at the Ritz, a leisurely affair that ended with a leisurely, if at first hesitant, pressing of lips to each other. This kiss, however, was not the end of the night, and Crowley got to taste much more by morning.

This leads us onto the second function of Crowley's talented tongue: dexterity. As you may know, a snake's tongue is quite supple, and as you may _not_ know, a snake-turned-demon's tongue is practically prehensile. As such, Crowley has found it useful for many things, including hissing (good for intimidating), holding items (only when he really doesn't have a hand to spare - the taste usually isn't worth it), kissing, and sex (self-explanatory). In fact, the reason it is good for hissing is also one of the reasons it is good for sex, as a certain angel seems to rather enjoy the light flickering of his lover's tongue over his corporeal form's erogenous zones. [1] The other tricks he used his tongue for during sex were more human-inspired, consisting of licking, lapping, and sometimes probing, but with his angel he could push these techniques to their limits. While giving head, for example, he found he could earn a quite spectacular chorus of "oh"’s by using his tongue to grip and stroke the whole length of Aziraphale’s cock as, try as he might, he couldn’t fit the whole thing in his mouth.[2] He found, also, that kissing his angel with copious amounts of tongue resulted in him being taken - quite forcefully, albeit lovingly - to and then on the nearest and least public horizontal surface. Of course, being a demon, he exploited these weaknesses to their full extent, but after 6000-odd years of waiting, Aziraphale was far too happy to give into temptation. 

The last use was, of course - if you know your herpetology, that is - smell. Perhaps not as important to us humans as the previous uses, but nonetheless a use that Crowley thoroughly exploited. His enhanced sense of smell had gotten him out of numerous dicey situations, such as evading capture by humans and suspicion by demons, as well as warning him of rain to come or the suspicion of the barkeep that was looking a little too closely at his sunglasses. He knew Aziraphale's smell well too, and that smell was as indescribable as the angel's taste - sweet and earthy, divine and human, all at the same time, tinged by whatever cologne or hair products he had decided to use and coloured by his state of mind. He couldn’t count the number of times, in the early days, that he had picked up that scent while he was working and followed it to its source, all the while trying to quell the feeling of _want_ it filled him with. If asked by anyone except his angel, he would have denied that what passed for a heart in his body damn near skipped a beat every time he smelt Aziraphale those first few centuries. Even then, he would definitely have tried to change the subject if even Aziraphale had mentioned that he'd noticed certain items of his clothing going missing, and _would you happen to know anything about that, Crowley?_

Aziraphale was not quite surprised when these missing items miraculously turned up again, long enough that he'd almost forgotten he'd missed them,[3] putting it down to simple inattention rather than demonic forces. He was less so surprised when, soon after he and Crowley had become "an item," as apparently was the modern phrase, his demon presented him with one of his more recently 'lost' items and confessed all. Or, more accurately, he found it wedged between the pillows in Crowley's now thoroughly unkempt bed, and before he could inquire as to what, exactly, his prized Victorian vest was doing there when he hadn’t seen it in at least a month, Crowley had flushed bright red, stammered out an apology and an explanation, then tried - successfully - to put the issue completely out of Aziraphale's mind for the rest of the night. After Aziraphale had reluctantly left to tend to his bookshop the next morning, however, Crowley woke to find the clothes the angel had been wearing the previous day folded up neatly on his pillow, with a note attached.[4] He felt heat reach his cheeks again as he read it, and if he buried his face in the soft fabrics over the years at the rare points when his angel wasn’t around, well, no-one would need to know.

**Author's Note:**

> 1 Of course, the few humans he had had sex with before hadn't known his true self and also weren’t Aziraphale, so Crowley actually found this out entirely by accident. He had, in fact, gotten so carried away with making love to his angel for the first time that he’d lost control of his carefully constructed human image, which caused some of his more snake-like features to return. As well as the forked tongue, this also included patches of scales, and fangs, of which Aziraphale was very vocal of his appreciation.  [ return to text ]
> 
> 2 Well, he could if he unhinged his jaw, but Aziraphale had told him off when he’d tried that, and besides, it was the length Crowley struggled with, not the width.  [ return to text ]
> 
> 3 Which, coincidentally, was usually the same amount of time it took for his smell to be thoroughly nuzzled and sniffed out of said garments.  [ return to text ]
> 
> 4 The note read something along the lines of: “I’ll see you later, you sentimental old snake.” And underneath, instead of a signature, there was what looked like a ‘loveheart,’ as humans called them, with fluffy wings either side of it. Crowley treasured it for centuries. [return to text]

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic of] Three Things Crowley Can Do With His Tongue](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20536223) by [carboncopies](https://archiveofourown.org/users/carboncopies/pseuds/carboncopies)




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